


time to pretend

by gallaghcrs



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Denial of Feelings, Drug Use, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallaghcrs/pseuds/gallaghcrs
Summary: Grizz says some weird things when he’s drunk, Sam is used to it by now. But on the night Sam has to drag a wasted Grizz out of a party before he gets hurt, he says some particularly interesting things — and this time, Sam can’t ignore them.





	time to pretend

This was such a stupid idea. 

He wants to support Becca in everything she does, the same way he supports him. But this? Sam just doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to put up with this. Partying is fun, occasionally, when he’s with a group of friends at a club and he can dance with whoever the fuck he wants to dance with and the alcohol is good. It’s different when he’s in a sweaty ass frat house surrounded by people he doesn’t even like and people keep offering him weird concoctions of energy drinks and vodka and pills. 

It’s not like the movies and the TV shows. It’s not glorious, it’s not fun, not for Sam at least. It’s just a room full of young adults tripping over each other and vomiting in the bathroom. Why Becca even wanted to join a sorority in the first place is beyond him, but it seemed to make her happy, so when she told him about her plans, he nodded along and said it was a good idea. 

Someone, a young woman with brunette hair and huge hoops earrings approaches him, resting an arm on the counter that he’s leaning on and says something to him. He can’t make it out, she’s slurring far too much for him to be able to make any sense of the movements of her lips. “Deaf,” he says with a shrug, struggling to raise his voice loud enough for her to hear over the music without actually fucking screaming. 

“Oh,” she hums, making a face like she gets it, but clearly she doesn’t, because she keeps talking, about a million words a minute, and Sam doesn’t even bother trying to keep up. Then, she reaches behind her, pulling something out of her pocket. A little plastic baggie with three pills left inside of it, each one a different color — pink, yellow, and blue. She smirks and raises her eyebrows, sliding the bag over to him across the counter. 

Even if he had understood what she was saying, he wouldn’t have wanted to take them. Sure, he smokes weed occasionally, but anything more than that freaks him out — especially when it’s given to him by a stranger at a party. Calmly, he slides the pills back to her without breaking eye contact. She sighs, stuffs the bag back into her pocket, and dissipates into the crowded frat once again. 

God, he really needs to find Becca. He had seen her once when they first arrived, but then she disappeared, swept up by he other sorority girls and Sam hadn’t seen her since. Maybe with her, this could have been bearable. But he’s been alone practically the whole time, and he couldn’t even get drunk because all of the alcohol they had tasted like shit. He’d look around a few minutes for Becca, but with the amount of people they had crammed into this house, he doubted he’d be able to find her. He’d give up and leave, and she’d probably be pissed that he didn’t stay, but she’d get over it. 

Where the hell would Becca even be? She wasn’t much of a dancer, and Sam hadn’t seen her around the alcohol at all. He wandered down one of the hallways where a short line of people was waiting outside a bathroom, but none of them were Becca. He recognized one of them though, a sweet girl named Kelly who was in his communications class. “Have you seen Becca?” he asked. 

He assumed there was still loud music playing, so he wasn’t sure if she’d be able to understand him through all of the sound, but she did. “Haven’t seen her for a while,” she said. He was pretty sure Kelly was in the sorority as well, meaning it was kind of odd that she didn’t know where Becca was. Hadn’t Becca gone off somewhere with the sorority girls? Where were the rest of them?

There was a staircase at the end of the hall, but truthfully, Sam didn’t have the energy to go snooping around the whole house. He didn’t even know if anyone was allowed up there. But, oh well. He’d see her tomorrow in the morning, and she can’t be mad at him because it’s not his fault she disappeared at the start of the party. She probably won’t even know if he leaves early. 

Feeling like he just wasted three hours of his life, he heads for the front door, shoving past groups of people that cram every open space. He felt dizzy, even though he wasn’t drunk, and the maze of college students who were all high off of their asses definitely wasn’t helping. Across the room, he spotted the front door, and breathed with relief. Thank god he’d be out of here soon; he felt like if he stayed a second longer he’d probably develop alcohol poisoning just from watching everyone down bottles of vodka. 

He was almost out when something caught his eye. He stopped, turned towards the small crowd that was formed in the middle of the floor. What, was someone fucking breakdancing now or some shit? With a closer look he saw that, no, this situation was far from that. Someone was on the ground, passed out, and it didn’t seem like the group of people around him were there to help. Curious, Sam approached the group, peering around the corner. It was worse than he initially thought, because judging by the bloody scrape on the guy’s forehead, he had hit his head on the table when he fell down. And if course, the other frat dudes were making it even worse, finding it hilarious when they continued to pour alcohol down the unconscious man’s throat. 

And, at an even closer inspection, Sam realized that he knew that person — that was his idiot fucking roommate, Grizz. What the hell had happened? Should he stop them, or at least do something? It was a miracle that he hadn’t already choked on the alcohol they were feeding him, and it would be a miracle if he wasn’t already suffering from alcohol poisoning. Shit, people could die from stuff like this, he couldn’t just stand by and watch. 

“Hey,” Sam yelled, breaching the small circle that had formed around him. The people who were fucking with Grizz turned out to be people who were supposed to be his friends, Clark, Jason, and Luke. They were all members of the same frat. “The fuck are you doing?” Sam tried to say, but it was difficult to articulate, and he found himself stumbling over the words. 

“What was that, buddy? What are you trying to say?” one of the boys mocked, he believed his name was Clark. He could barely stand, one holding himself up by grabbing onto the side of the couch. Sam just shook his head in disbelief, crouching down to inspect the damage. The cut on his head wasn’t too bad, but his shirt was a mess, practically drenched in alcohol. The other guys seemed to have become bored, especially now that Sam was crashing their sadistic little party, so they gave up and left, leaving him alone with the body. Should he call 911? Jesus, what kind of a pussy calls 911 at a college party? Everyone would hate him. 

Almost as an afterthought, he quickly checked for a pulse, relieved to feel the steady bump under his skin. He couldn’t just leave him here alone, who knows what else they’d do to him? But he was a pretty big guy and Sam was...not. There was no way he’d be able to carry him out of there. He looked around, hoping he’d find someone else who was sober enough to help, but no one else was paying attention. So he was on his own, then. 

“Hey, Grizz,” Sam said, raising his voice. He snapped his fingers in front of his face, but he didn’t even flinch. Goddammit. He’d feel like a huge asshole if he just left him there, and god, what if...what if something bad happened to him? He’d never forgive himself. He tapped his cheek lightly, mentally calling himself an idiot for thinking that would work. With a wince, he reeled his arm back farther, letting it land roughly against his cheek. It left a mark. He was glad he didn’t have to hear the sound of his palm hitting him.

He didn’t have to feel guilty for too long though, because somehow, it actually work, and Grizz’s eyes slowly started to blink open. He stared up at Sam, the glanced around, then his eyes fell back on Sam. Slowly, he reached a hand up to his cheek where Sam had slapped him, then moved it down to his wet t-shirt. “Oh, hey Sam,” Grizz said, apparently just now recognizing the person kneeling over him. “Why are you here?” Usually, Grizz was rather considerate when talking to Sam, maybe a little too considerate sometimes. He always talked slowly, making sure Sam could understand him. From other people, Sam would probably take the way he talked as condescending, but when it was Grizz, he knew he was genuinely trying to help. Now, it was a bit more difficult to understand him considering that he mumbled all of his words, but Sam could interpret it with a little extra effort. 

“We’re leaving,” Sam said, reaching out his hand for Grizz to take it. He didn’t. He kept staring at him, dumbfounded, forehead creased and nose scrunched up in a way that Sam hated to admit was kind of adorable. 

“Leaving?” Grizz repeated. “Why?”

“Come on, get up.” Sam grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up, but he wouldn’t budge. He continued to lie on the ground, deadweight, not helping Sam out in the slightest. “Grizz, you’re hurt,” Sam said, hoping that would maybe encourage him to get up. 

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.” Sam grabbed Grizz’s hand and moved it to the spot on his forehead where he was bleeding. Grizz felt it, the wound, and Sam watched realization dawn in his eyes. 

“Oh no,” Grizz groans. “How’d that get there?”

“Think you hit your head,” Sam said. “Now let’s go before it gets worse, okay?”

“Right, right, good idea.” Finally, Grizz agreed, and stood up with Sam’s help. He couldn’t walk on his own, he had to lean on Sam to steady himself the whole time. 

They stumbled outside, Sam doing his best to hold Grizz up and not trip over anyone else. Other than the few street lamps that lit up the sidewalk, it was pitch black outside, and it felt like another dimension from the party. It was much cooler than he expected, too, and a gust of wind made him shiver. Grizz says something, Sam can tell because he sees that his lips are moving, but it’s too dark to see exactly what he’s saying. Sam ignores it, but Grizz, too drunk to make any sense of anything, doesn’t seem to understand, and he keeps talking. Sam sort of wished he knew what he was saying, but maybe it was better that he didn’t. 

The dorm wasn’t too far, they could easily walk there. But with Grizz being so out of it, Sam had to hope they could make it there safely. It was about 5 minutes into the walk home when Grizz stopped abruptly, fell to his knees on the ground, and started vomiting into the grass. It was fucking nasty, but Sam held his hair back and grimaced while he patted his back. When he finished, he stood again, teetering slightly, and mouthed something to Sam. Again, Sam didn’t know what he was trying to say, but he assumed it was some version of a thank you. 

The worst part of the whole situation, however, was when they eventually made it back to the dorms and Sam had to figure out how in the hell he was going to get Grizz up the stairs. There were only two short flights to the floor that their room was on, but still, it was quite a challenge. Grizz kept tripping over Sam’s feet and his own, and Sam was so worried that he was going to fall backwards that he kept a tight grip around his waist the entire time. Grizz kept brushing it off, acting like nothing was wrong, and Sam was pretty sure he believed it too. “Sam, you’re the best, and I love you, but I feel like shit,” Grizz mumbled as they made their way up the next step. The light in the staircase was enough for Sam to see what he was saying. 

“Almost there,” Sam reassured him. From where they were at, he could see the door to their room just down the hall. He needed some fucking sleep. Again, Grizz almost tripped, the back of his foot just barely slipping off the edge of the step. Sam quickly grabbed his arm before he could topple down the stairs and injure himself even more. “Careful, idiot.”

“Man, you're like…a fucking superhero, man. Like, I’m being fucking rescued by a superhero right now…” Grizz rambled on. Sam stopped paying attention to him, because as much as he loved being called a ‘fucking superhero’ he was incredibly exhausted and just wanted to get Grizz to safety so he could pass out and sleep for ten hours. 

Without too much more trouble, Sam managed to get them both to the door. He fumbled around for his key until he found it in his pocket and unlocked the door. As soon as they were inside and the door was closed, Grizz was slumping down on the floor, back resting against the wall. “I’m going to sleep,” he said, his eyes already closing. 

“Oh no, not yet,” Sam said, shaking him awake. “You can’t sleep on the floor. And you need to change your shirt.” 

“What, you don’t like my shirt?” Grizz looked down at his T-shirt, looking somewhat disappointed. 

“It’s fine, it’s a great shirt Grizz, but it’s fucking soaked. You’ll get sick or something if you sleep like that.” 

With a dramatic sigh of protest, Grizz slipped his shirt off and tossed it to the side. “You happy now?” Grizz smirked and gave Sam a look with his glassy eyes and blushing cheeks. “Oh this was your plan, huh? You just wanted me to take my shirt off, right?”

“Jesus, Grizz, no,” Sam protested. “I’m trying to help. Go put on another shirt.” 

“Nah, don’t feel like it,” Grizz said. He stood up, his legs wobbling, and made it to his bed before collapsing on the mattress. Sam probably should have cleaned up the cut on his head, but it wasn’t like it was too deep. It could wait until morning. “It’s not fair, though.”

“What’s not fair?”

“I’m not wearing a shirt and you are.” 

God, did he really have to do this? He was so drunk, why couldn’t he just pass out already? The last thing Sam wanted to do was argue with a wasted Grizz, especially one that was acting like this. “I told you to put on a shirt.”

“You should just take yours off, then we’ll be even.”

You know what? Whatever. Being roommates for a while they’d seen each other shirtless plenty of times, Sam didn’t know why he was acting weird about it now. So he complied, taking off his jacket and shirt just so Grizz would shut the fuck up about it. “I’m going to sleep. You should too,” Sam said, crawling into bed. He was about to turn out his lamp, but Grizz stopped him. 

“Wait, don’t turn it off yet,” Grizz said from the other side of the room. “I still wanna talk to you.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” 

“Well, you’re like, the best person ever,” Grizz said. Oh fuck, here he goes again. Grizz is a loving drunk, the type of person who will immediately start telling everyone he loves them the moment he has one drink. It happens nearly every time, and apparently, tonight isn’t any different. “Like, I’m so glad we’re roommates.”

“Me too, Grizz.”

“And you’re also like, the cutest person ever. Like you’re just fucking adorable. I don’t know anyone more adorable than you.” So this is different. Not something Sam has heard from drunk Grizz before, but he can’t say it surprised him. “I mean your smile is just so cute and I love the way you talk and your eyes.” Okay, now that was really different. He didn’t mean it though, did he? It was the alcohol talking. He was just being stupid. 

“I appreciate it, Grizz.” 

He stops talking, and for a few minutes, Sam was pretty sure he was done for the night. Again, he almost turned off the light, but then Grizz was saying something else. Sam thought about ignoring him and just going to sleep, but he was curious about what else he had to say. “I’m cold.”

“I told you to put on a shirt.”

“Come sleep in my bed,” Grizz suggested, calmly, like it was nothing. Sam couldn’t do that. Grizz was drunk out of his mind. If he woke up to see Sam sleeping in his bed, he’d lose his shit. 

“Your bed is too small,” Sam argues. He wished though that he could sleep in Grizz’s bed. He never had someone like that. He never had a boyfriend. It seemed nice, but there was no one who liked him in that way and he didn’t think there ever would be. Especially not someone like Grizz, his head was just way too foggy right now. 

“That’s true, I guess,” Grizz said. “Anyways, goodnight Sam. I really like you.” 

Sam turned off the light. 

Come morning, Grizz wouldn’t remember any of this.


End file.
